Dancing in the Shadow
by Chiallabear
Summary: Kharienthe discovers she can speak with Darkhounds and subsequently runs away from home to go with them to Shayol Ghul. Updated; still unfinished.
1. Beginnings

  


_Beginnings_

  
  


Kharienthe Erithan stood in the doorway, staring out at the night. Obsidian wisps of cloud floated silently over the stars and clung to the sliver of moon. As she watched, a breeze ruffled the dry grass and picked up a few dead leaves from the ground, sending them whirling through the skeletal trees. An owl whoo-whooted softly, its voice carrying eerily on the swirling wind. All was seemingly peaceful. Something was out there, though. Something.... 

"Shut the door, Khar," came her mother's voice from within. 

The wind had picked up, blowing cold air and dead leaves past Khar and into the house. She snatched her shawl from the peg and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. She shivered in the wind as she drew the lacey shawl around her. Something.... The wind carried another sound now, a darker, most disturbing sound than the gentle call of the owl. This was the deep, terrifying howl of a predator. A large, dangerous predator. Knowing she should return to the house, Khar wandered farther into the woods, drawn irresistibly toward the source of the haunting sound. 

Answering howls came in swift succession from all directions. Khar whirled around anxiously, knowing there would be no escape. Eyes. She saw eyes. One pair, two...seven. Seven pairs of silver eyes glinting in the faint light of moon and stars, housed in bodies that seemed to melt into the night. Seven pairs of silver eyes surrounding her, imprisoning her. A small cry escaped her lips as she spun around again, her eyes coming to rest on the eyes of the largest creature. She was going to die. 

_Little sister, be easy._

The words echoed in Kharienthe's mind, though more as ideas than spoken words. Her dark brows drew together on her pale forehead, and she took another step toward the eyes. An image of herself touched her mind then, much the same as she must look now, but her green eyes wide with wonder instead of fear, her breathing calm and steady. 

_Little sister, I am Daghain Daemar, He who plays fear like a game. This is my pack._ The image of the darkhound's name was terrible, though he reassured her that she, at least, need not fear him. One by one, images of the other hounds' names flashed through her mind. _And you, little one, shall be called_ Sar Sara sa a'Cor_. She who Dances in the Night._ Another image filled Kharienthe's mind, of herself this time. She was dancing under the moon, her feet bare and her hair streaming behind her. She remembered the night she had danced like that, but the image she saw now was from a watcher's perspective. From the trees. The darkhounds had been watching her. 

_Come, sister. Come dance with us in the night. You belong with us._

Without sparing a backward glance at the small cottage she shared with her mother and sister, she ran forward and sprang onto Daghain's back. They flew through the night, leaving no trail behind them, but the faint scent of sulphur that hung in the now-still air. 


	2. Arrival

  


_Arrival_

  
  


Kharienthe fell to the ground in a heap of ragged cloth and tangled hair. The journey to Shayol Ghul had been long and arduous. The hounds killed and ate, and Khar was forced to eat what they provided; raw meat, often human. She had crept into a cabin one night and stolen a knife so that she could take meat from Daghain's kills that had not been touched by his toxic saliva. She had lost track, but she thought it might have been a month since she had been collected in the wood outside her mother's cottage. There was no moon in Shayol Ghul, so it was difficult to know. 

"Stand up." 

The voice which spoke was cold as ice and dark as shadow. Khar slowly sorted out which way was up, and then climbed to her feet, clinging to Daghain's fur for support. It was a myrdraal who had spoken, and his eyeless gaze was directed at Khar. It was strange; she had always thought that myrdraal would be frightening. This one merely watched her, and she watched him back. She was _Sar Sara sa a'Cor_, companion of _Daghain Daemar_. Who would dare challenge her? She waited in silence for further instruction, a fey smile on her thin, dirt-streaked face. 

"Go through that door," he told her after a moment, nodding at a grey stone door off to Khar's left. "You will be seen shortly. Leave the hound outside." 

Kharienthe looked at Daghain then, questioning. To leave him outside like a common beast? She stepped around in front of him to look into his quicksilver eyes. 

_Go, little one. I will still be here, and we can hear each other even when separated. Go inside._

Khar nodded and stepped through the door. The room inside was small, but quite comfortably furnished. And empty. A few candles provided dim light, and the polished fruitwood furniture glowed in the soft illumination. She sat down to wait on a silk-upholstered settee, wondering which of the three doors someone would enter through. 


	3. The Kill

_Note: The sections from the Myrdraal's point of view were not written by me. They are from a roleplay thread at the Wheel of Shadow, and posted here it is for your reading pleasure. I'll write actual chapter-y things after the thread is done and I find out whether she lives or dies or what._

~Chiallabear

  
  
  
  


_Impudent Human_

  
  


Calis entered the room. The myrddraal, one of the original ones, not anything close to his power and ability, had shown this new Darkhoundkin into the room. Darkhoundkin were rare enough - Darkhounds had to find the ones who had the ability - or could be gifted with the ability; no one was quite sure how they did it - to be either wolfkin or darkhoundkin. And then they had to make sure they would be...suitable...material for the Shadow. 

Still...their bond with the Darkhounds could not be denied its power and usefulness.... Which was why Calis was here today. Indayende, his master, had sent him here to recruit this Darkhoundkin for his cause. Indayende's lands lay mostly south of the Blight Border - and as such the few men and women who popped up with the ability more often were found by the Wolves first. So any chance to get his hands on on.... 

Calis stared down at the girl. She wasn't much more than a girl, that was for certain. Calis gave her another once over. She was a bit small for his master's tastes, but her long raven black hair was something he always had enjoyed...and her silver eyes were quite exotic, another thing his Master preferred. 

Still, it was not his place as a servant to question. His Servant place was a commander. And this woman had potential to be an excellent scout. 

First, however, a test. 

A dagger quivered in the floor as it suddenly appeared before the girl. The door behind Calis opened, and a man was dragged out - he was old, and useless, his days as a slave having just ran out. Underfed and malnurished, his eyes still held a faint pleading hope...and an intense fear of Calis and what he represented. 

Calis looked at the girl his eyless gaze beating down on her, ten times stronger than any other myrddraal she had ever encountered. 

"Kill him" 

  


_The Kill_

  
  


Kharienthe stared at the myrdraal, mesmerized. She watched him watch her, lips parted a little in anticipation of...of...something; she didn't know quite what. She felt rather than saw his gaze rake her body, but she was not disturbed by it. To the contrary, she felt a thrill run down her spine at the thought. She was suddenly very aware of the state she was in; she had not bathed since leaving her mother's cottage, and her hair was tangled in a dark cloud about her head. Her dress was in rags. Did myrdraal care about such things? She could not even imagine one taking a lover, yet she was sure she had not mistaken his assessing glance. 

The door opened then. Guards brought a struggling man into the room, and a knife shuddered in the floor at her feet. An old man, his frame skeletal, his eyes wild with fear and faint hope. 

"Kill him," the myrdraal hissed, his voice colder than the steel of the knife that appeared in her hand. 

Kharienthe was on her feet in the next moment, circling her prey, her own knife in one hand and the myrdraal's in the other. 

_How shall I kill him, Daghain?_ Khar sent her query to the waiting darkhound, an image of the old man wrapped round with Khar's intention to kill him. _Where shall I strike?_

_Throat_, came the hunger-ridden, jealous reply. The pack had not eaten in days. As fast as the image of the emaciated throat was sent by Daghain, Khar's knife was buried in the living flesh. Dropping the myrdraal's knife, she tore the wound open with her free hand, eager to eat what would be her first meal in days. 

Realizing that the myrdraal still watched, she paused, her fingers still buried in the dying flesh, blood gushing out and spilling onto the floor. She looked up at the eyeless creature, snarling, ready to defend her kill. This meat was hers! 


	4. Lesson in Obedience

  


_The Proper Place_

  
  


Like so many other Darkhoundkin before her, she dived into the kill, tearing at the throat, ripping chunks out of the struggling and dying old man. His eyeless gaze watched her silently. No hesitation in the Kill. Good; the Darkhounds had made her theirs by full. Some kin who were brought to Shayol Ghul still had vestiges of their humanity and were, because of it, useless. 

She turned and growled at him, defending her kill, her meal. With one large stride he was beside her, his arm raised and came down in a vicious backhand slap, sending her flying from the still dying man. She sprawled across the length of the room, and came up as if to attack again, but his sword flew from its sheath, and two more strides latter he was across the room, his sword at her bare throat. 

The Thakan'dar blade nicked her throat. Darkhoundkin, he had found, were resistant to the Taint on his blade, but most did not know that. Most never discovered the fact - most didnt even realize he carried one of the most deadly blades ever forged at Thakan'dar. 

His other hand gripped her tangled and dirty hair, pulling her head back more despite her vicious growl. Her darkhound would probably be reacting soon, but dominace of that one would come in a second. She needed to be taught her place, who was faster, stronger, and more able to kill. 

"Serve" he hissed, voice like dead leaves rustling across each other in a moonless night. He pressed the blade closser, cutting deeper into her jugular. Weak from not having eaten in days he easily over powered her struggles - even if she had been at full strength she could not have hoped to over power him. "Obey" the next word came from his lips, his gaze pouring into her eyes. 

"Or die" 

  


_Passive?_

  
  


"Serve. Obey. Or die." The myrdraal's sword was at her throat. She felt it pierce her skin and she growled at him, every muscle in her small body tensed. She didn't struggle, lest he actually kill her. 

_Kill_, her mind cried out to Daghain. She could hear him whining and growling just outside the door, and his thoughts carried agreement back to her. Guards stood at all the doors, however, and so Daghain paced, watching for a sign of weakness that would tell him which way to move. 

"Serve and obey," she whispered, hardly daring to move her jaw enough to speak. "I will serve and obey." 

Her fingers squeezed imperceptibly tighter around her knife, still buried in her victim's throat, and she thought she could see the tip of the other knife from the corner of her eye. She did not risk looking down at it, though, not while that eyeless monster was staring at her and might notice the movement of her eyes. No, he must believe that she would serve and obey. Obey whom, though? Him? 

_Hurry_, she urged Daghain. _Kill!_

  


_Two Must Serve_

  
  


"Serve and obey," she whispered, hardly daring to move her jaw enough to speak. "I will serve and obey." Calis could hear her Darkhound outside, pacing, whining, growling. _She's calling to it_, he thought to himself. _Good; this will be the perfect time_. His sword moved away, slowly, and in one fluid movement was back in its sheath, and his left hand holding her throat to the wall. He signaled to the two trolloc guards at the door through the Link, and they opened it. 

The Darkhound burst in to the room, growling, hissing, its poisionous saliva flinging about. Its massive body was almost to big for the door, but it left gouges in the doorframe in its haste to come to its Kin. Calis whipped Karienthe's body about by the neck, holding her throat securely in his strong fingers, her feet dangling above the ground. 

The Darkhound growled at him. He had to teach them both to obey, not just one. This one knew, partially at least, that she could be killed by him with no second thought. The Darkhound most likely still believed it could kill _him_ without a second thought. And to teach it its place would require its Kin to be in danger of death. 

Darkhounds reacted differently at this point. Some attacked despite the threat to to their Kin, some growled and had a stand off, some attacked the Trolloc guards in frustration. One had even murdered its own kin for being so weak to a mere Myrddraal. But Calis was no mere Myrddraal. 

  


_To Serve and Betray_

  
  


_No_, she silently told Daghain. _He'll kill us both. We must be patient._

_He must die_, Daghain replied, still growling at the myrdraal. He paced restlessly, snarling at guards who dared get too close. _He must not be allowed to harm you._

_No!_

Kharienthe's face showed nothing of this silent power struggle. She continued to meet the eyeless gaze of the myrdraal calmly even while Daghain whined and paced and howled. With a final, vicious snarl that sent poisonous saliva flecks flying at a few guards, Daghain stalked over to where the myrdraal held his mistress and sat down sulkily to wait. 

"Are you quite satisfied," Khar whispered, her throat nearly crushed under the myrdraal's cold hand. "Or shall you test us further? We serve and obey, Master, lest we die." 

_Obedience, yes_, she murmured to the hound. _And resentment. He will die. But we must wait, Daghain; we must be patient. We must...obey...._

_Never_, Daghain snarled, mentally and aloud. Though the voiced complaint was not in the tongues of men, the sentiment behind it was evident to all. The great shadowy menace at the slender girl's feet was not pleased. _I will not obey him, but I will do as you ask, Sar Sara sa a'Cor. I will obey you._

_That is enough_, Sar Sara sa a'Cor replied, allowing the line between humanity and caninivity blur. Daghain controlled the pack, and she controlled him. Another of her peculiar smiles lighted on her lips as she waited for the myrdraal to reply. 


End file.
